To be honest, I’d never heard the name Jonathan Glazier before Under the Skin started screening at St James Cavalier. Many of you are probably shaking their heads at me, but what can I say.

When I read that he is the director behind Scarlett Johannson’s latest main role – a role that has created waves amidst smitten movie buffs – I naturally had to look him up. The only familiar name on his list of works was Sexy Beast, a film that I’ve been meaning to see ever since I watched Dom Hemingway and was told that it’s pretty much an inferior version of the former.

After watching Under the Skin, I will certainly check out Glazier’s other works. The extent to which the film was hyped up online was almost ludicrous. At one point it was like I couldn’t go on any film-related website or social media platform without finding at least half a dozen people oohing and aahing about it.

I put this enthusiasm down to the simple fact that the film includes an appearance by Johannson in her birthday suit. Well, more than once actually. You’d be surprised at how this one simple fact can turn a mediocre film into a cult art-house production.

But this isn’t the case with Under the Skin, I’m happy to report. Glazier has created an extraordinarily beautiful film, one that doesn’t even require a defined plot to keep your interest going. If stunning, eerie visuals coupled with haunting music motifs are your thing, you will probably want to watch this one again and again.

The film is immensely disturbing, however this is almost its biggest attraction, together with the visuals and the fact that it never actually gives the viewers any answers (warning – spoilers might lie ahead).

When Johannson – who, like the other characters, is never given a name in the film – takes home the first man and we see what happens to him, as viewers we are torn between the feeling or horror and that of enchantment at the dramatically stunning cinematography.

Actually I should correct my last sentence. We are not actually shown what happens to the victim. We are not even sure whether what we are seeing is a metaphorial allusion or the reality of what is happening to him, and it is this uncertainity and sense of surreality that keeps us horrified and mesmerised in turns.

When, by the time the second victim shows up, it hits us that this is no metaphor, the sense of horrible fascination is complete. What is happening? Why is Johannson doing this to the men she meets? And who is controlling her? Is she even human?

I’d like to say that all these questions are answered at the end of the film, but they are not

I’d like to say that all these questions are answered at the end of the film, but they are not. Some of them are, but not fully. And the raison d’etre behind Johannson’s actions is left up to the viewer to interpret and to piece the clues together.

The ending is a sad one, of course. With a film of this sort it is impossible to expect other-wise. After the film ended I must have spent a good 30 minutes discussing its ifs and wherefores, the techniques employed by Glazier.

And it is this that is the sign of a good film – it is not for-gotten as soon as the end credits start rolling. Rather, it serves as the springboard to an animated discussion.

And since I’ve exhausted all discussion, there is only one thing left to do – read the novel by Michel Faber that inspired it all.

ramona.depares@timesofmalta.com